RaisingDad

On Christmas Eve Day, while my father has been enthusiastically zzzzzzing, I have been in the attic busy finding and separating and rearranging all the holiday boxes that contain our holiday decorations. Boxes, boxes, and more boxes. Once Christmas is over, and we pack everything up, there will be  still more boxes.      Where do they end?      I'd ask my wife, but she'd only get mad. I don't mind the silent treatment, what I mind is the lack of womanly affection that comes with the silent treatment at no extra cost.      Every year, when I put them back in our attic, I stack them neatly and with great care. When the holiday comes rolling back around, I don't know how they get mixed in with all the other holiday boxes we have there, or who goes up there and mixes them in with all the other holiday boxes, but mixed in is the condition I find them in.      I don't...

Life does take some strange turns, and, unfortunately, we have no control of the steering wheel.      The other day I told my wife, "Honey, I'm not complaining, but babysitting an old man was not what I had in my mind when I retired."      She gave me The Look. I think the flowers on our kitchen table began to wilt from the invisible lasers that were emanating from her eyes.      "You can make your own coffee," she told me.      "That's not the only thing you'll be making on your own," her Look interjected.      "Honey, sweetie, baby" I interjected myself, "I'm just joking. You know me. I like to joke."      Hey, I like my coffee in the mornings. Among other things.      But it's true. I had no idea I'd be taking care of an almost 100-year-old man who eats more in three meals than I do in three days. He snacks all day l...

Yesterday Morning   My wife to my father: "Tomorrow you have a doctor's appointment."      My father to my wife: "Who has a doctor's appointment?"      " You have a doctor's appointment."      " I  have a doctor's appointment?"      "Yes, you have a doctor's appointment."      "Why?"      "It's your yearly check-up."      "My what?"      "Your yearly check-up."      "There something wrong with me?"      "No, it's just your yearly check-up."      "My yearly check-up?"      "Yes, your yearly check-up."      "Then there's nothing wrong with me?"      "No, Dad. there's nothing wrong with you."      "If there's nothing wrong with me, then why do I have to go...

Once upon a time, two Saturdays ago, my grandson had just been dropped off for a visit and wanted to race.      "Why not?" I thought to myself. He's only four-years-old. What chance does he have of beating me, The Great One? That's what they used to call me in back in school when I was on the track team. Well... that's what I used to call myself, but the nickname never stuck.      My grandson yells " GO! " and we're off like a flash. Make that two flashes.      My mind was working like the computer Steve Jobs could only dream about making, analyzing every movement of my body and making adjustments as required. My legs were moving like pistons in the engine of a Lamborghini. My lungs, taking in huge gobs of air, were like the after burners on the SR-71 Blackbird flying at MACH 3.      Man, I was in The Zone.    ...

I regret making fun of my father in the last story because God punished me for it.      This morning I went outside to pick up after my dog, when I was attacked--ATTACKED, I tell you--by a tiny moth. I didn't even notice it until it flew right into my ear. My left one. It didn't even give me a chance to swat it away by buzzing around annoyingly first. No, it was like one of those Smart Missiles that locates and then heads straight for its target.      One moment my ear was blissfully empty, and the next it had a moth in it. I didn't see it or feel it flying around, but I felt it go in my ear, so I did what anybody else would have done, I immediately used my finger to get it out. Unfortunately, I probably wedged it even further inside. The fortunate thing is that, even though it was small enough to fit in my ear, it was too big to go all the way down. With the exception of bumble bees, nothing that ...

There's a joke by a very funny and very dead comedian, Henny Youngman. He was known as the king of the one-liners. It goes (and I'm paraphrasing here):        "I went to the doctor the other day. I told him, 'Doc, it hurts when I do this.' He said, 'Then don't do that.'"        Did I ever tell you that several years back, I was having dizzy spells? Every time I stood up, if I got up too fast, my head would spin and I'd have to sit back down until I got my sea-legs again.      So I went to my General Practitioner. My family doctor, in other words. He's a good doctor. He's took the Hippocratic Oath and everything. Anyway...      At the office, I tell him, "Doc, I'm having dizzy spells. Every time I get up, I have to sit back down, because my head starts spinning. I don't know what's wrong."      So the doctor does what doctors do. He hems and haws...

Once upon a time, oh, say, three nights ago, my wife had made some menudo for Halloween Eve. Menudo is a Mexican stew made with hominy and tripe.      What?      You don't know what tripe is?      Trust me, you don't want to know.      My wife? She's a pretty smart lady. Menudo is exactly  the right thing to eat on a cold, cold night when you're busy handing out candies for Halloween. And if you spill the red broth on your shirt, you can even tell the innocent young trick-or-treaters it's blood.      Hang on a second... did I say "we"?     I meant "me".      Somehow, when it comes to getting off the couch to hand out the treats, my legs seem to be the only ones that work. But I don't mind. I've lost a lot of things when my Dad moved in with us. The use of the TV in the great room. The use of my favorite chair in th...